dear mom
by MixItUp
Summary: Carly writes to her deceased mother and receives a visitor. Creddie. Fluff. Oneshot.


dear mom

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><p>The wooden box is warm in her hands. She can't help but remember the last box she used to store these precious epistles: just a silly little pink plastic princess box with "Property of Her Royal Highness Carly Shay" emblazoned on the top. It was always cool to the touch, but not so cold when it melted in the flames that had destroyed her room.<p>

She sighed. It was a time for happier memories, now. Even though she had lost a lot when those letters burned, she had started the tradition anew.

Each began the same way:

_Dear Mom,_

She paused. Just those two simple words could mean so much to her. She, who'd hardly known her mother besides vague remembrances of gentle smiles and dark, dark hair.

Putting her pen back to the paper, she began to write again, more slowly, taking care to keep her handwriting pretty and neat.

_I haven't written to you in awhile. I'm sorry. I've been busy lately, with finishing up the final show and getting ready for graduation. It's been crazy._

_ I can't believe it's been so long since I've seen you. I'm eighteen now. That means it's been twelve years since you left. _

_ It's not like I blame you, I know it's not your fault, but I wish you could have stayed. That way you'd get to see me graduate, instead of me having to describe it to you. You would have watched every episode of iCarly, I know you would have. That's the kind of mom you would have been._

_ You would have gone with me to keep Sam out of juvie. You would have been there for Spencer's art shows, clapping your hands and crying because you were just so proud of your son. You would have been there after we started the show, and there ever step of the way, I just know it._

_ You could have been a second, better mother to Sam—instead of me, somehow trying to be her best friend and mom at the same time. You could have taken care of me so that Spencer could live his crazy dreams, instead of me growing up so soon so that I could take care of him._

_ I would have talked to you about anything, everything. I'd want to know everything about you, what your childhood was like, how you and Dad met. We could watch movies together and cry. _

_ Mom, I would tell you what I'm going to tell you now, only I'd get to tell you in person, face to face, and you'd already know. You would have been giving me that knowing look whenever he came over, and singing his name when he wasn't around. I'd blush, probably, in a ridiculously happy way._

_ I think I'm in love with Freddie._

_ You would have approved. He's sweet, kind, polite...good-looking...funny, supportive—oh, words can't even describe him. Why am I even trying?_

_ Someone else's mother would say, "You're eighteen, honey, you don't know what love is." You wouldn't be that kind of mom. You would look me full in the eyes and say, "Carly Shay, do you mean that?"_

_ And I would nod, almost completely surely, and say, "Yeah, I think I do."_

_ At the very least I can't imagine ever loving anybody else but him. It's not just some silly infatuation now. It's not even all about feelings. Sure, I love his company, but sometimes he just gets on my nerves. But I don't love him any less for it. In fact, I think I love him more._

_ We're not a couple, though. Technically, anyway. We do everything together. People always refer to us, now, as "Carly-and-Freddie". I just can't figure out why_

There was a knock at the door. She heaved a sigh. It was probably Spencer, back from Socko's and bursting with stories.

She opened the door, ready to let him in and head back upstairs.

Freddie Benson stood there, hand raised as if about to knock again. His brown eyes were vibrant and almost frantic.

"Freddie...hey..." she said uncertainly. She was pleased to see him, of course, but his timing was less than perfect. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"There's something important I need to tell you," he said, breathless, until he looked at her better. "But...you're in the middle of something important, right? I can...leave."

She held her hand up. "No. Stay. Just..."

"I'll watch TV or something," he assured her, smiling that heart-melting smile of his.

"Thank you," she whispered, and bolted back up the stairs.

Carly takes her time finishing the letter. She knows he'll wait for her. He always has.

* * *

><p>When she returned all of twenty minutes later, her fingers cramping from clenching her pen like it was her last hope, he only smiled. He didn't ask what she had been doing, because he trusted she'll tell him if necessary.<p>

The thought of how much she loved that about him made her knees weak for a second.

She took the seat next to him on the couch. For a second, Freddie just looked at her, with eyes that made her think he might kiss her. She broke his gaze, unable to handle the pressure.

"What was the important thing you needed to tell me?" she asked, fingers absentmindedly playing with the couch cushion. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Carly...I understand if you don't...but..." His brow furrowed. Evidently, he had not entirely worked out what he was going to say. She allowed him a moment.

He cleared his throat again and looked at her, again, with that dizzying gaze. "Carly. Even though you'll probably say no and feel...awkward and chiz, I just have to tell you. I mean ask you? I don't really know."

She listened expectantly, heart pounding and sounding like she was inside of a giant drum.

"We're ending iCarly. We're graduating. We're going to go our separate ways. And...I don't want that." Every word sounded forced, but sincere.

"We'll never stop being friends, Freddie," she said quietly.

He shook his head dismissively. "I know that. But that's not enough. I mean...it can be. But wouldn't it be better—don't you think—if we could just be together?"

Carly tried to calm the flood of emotion sweeping over her. "We've already made our decisions on our schools, and it's not like we'll be that far away."

"I don't mean that. I mean as a couple." The words obviously came easier to him now.

She looked at him. He looked at her.

A year before, he probably would have said "never mind" and changed the subject or even left. That day, he waited for her response.

"I'd like that," she admitted, catching him off guard. He sent her a quizzical look, and she smiled, laughed, nodded.

"Well...great!"

"So I guess we're together."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

They sealed it with a kiss.

* * *

><p>Later, as they struggled to say goodbye, Carly thought of the postscript she would need to attach to her letter. A smile played at her lips.<p>

"What?" he—Freddie—her _boyfriend_ asked, grinning.

"I'll tell you another day."

She meant it, because he was exactly the kind of boy you brought home to meet your mother. Exactly tailor-made for her.


End file.
